Ode to a Notebook

Many of you have seen it: my ratty, colorful little spiral notebook. My replacement for the one lost on the TTC, procured at a discount shop on Rideau. The same place I picked up my beloved pair of $3 sunglasses, presently held together with a toothpick.

What I love so much about this little book is that it has sections delineated by bright plastic dividers, allowing for my make-shift day-planner (now home to directions, phone number, and transit routes spanning 3 countries and 2 continents) to live beside my scrawly writing-notes section, without overlap or cross-contamination. Far superior to toting around multiple notebooks, which is what I used to do, inevitably neglecting the catch-all one for the organizational one when heading out for the day.

But alas! all good things must come to an end.

Next in line: a sophisticated Moleskin notebook -- the same used by Picasso, Hemingway, and Chatwin, announces their slogan -- purchased on sale in Toronto in August. Still in its plastic packaging.
Delicious thick, blank fold-out pages await. No more lines, no more spirals, no flimsy paper that can't support the ink of finer felt-tipped pens that make scrawling that much more pleasurable. How glorious!

And yet, I find myself flipping back and forth through Old Faithful, scribbling in my tiniest penmanship in margins, at all kinds of angles, on any available real estate. Starting a new book is always difficult, particularly if the one in question is delightfully decadent.
Perhaps that's all it is.

At any rate, my hunts for writing space have facilitated a revisiting of forgotten notes, jotted down hastily in an attempt to avoid the "what are you writing" queries from those around.
I intend to post some of them, in tribute to my notebook friend and to ease through the transition period.
[Ease through the transition period?! Sometimes, I am so weird.]

So, for those of you who wondered to yourself or aloud what I was scribbling all those times, to those of you I never quite gave a direct answer -- I am the Queen of Deflection, am I not? -- I suppose this will give you some sense of it.

[I'll do my best to date them, so this carnet doesn't become a chronological nightmare.]